Gray
by bonney
Summary: Non-shippy, family-based modern AU Crocodile/Law. Based off a series of roleplay threads between a friend, who this gift fic is for.


Uhhh. This is a gift for a friend, figured I'd post it here too. Modern AU, yeah. Nothing too special.

* * *

The sky was gray the day they put my father in the ground, and for once I missed the sun.

I had never particularly cared for warm weather; I felt the best when it was cold, I enjoyed having the chill nip at my skin. I liked layers, and I disliked sweat. It was cold that day. I watched in silence as the casket was lowered and I turned on my heel to walk away at the first second I was able to. My eyes were as dry as the ground beneath my feet was, and I ignored the pitiful crunching of the frosted grass as I trodded away from the open grave. I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't want to go to a luncheon, if I heard one more person tell me they were sorry I was going to snap.

My name is Trafalgar Law. I don't know my biological parents, and I don't care to. I was orphaned or I was abandoned when I was a child, I'm not sure which, and I lived in an orphanage for the greater part of my childhood, until I was ten or so. I'd been passed from foster home to foster home, always ending up back in the orphanage because of my personality and my slew of medical requirements. Everybody thought I was a well-mannered kid at first, until I started to actually act like myself, then they'd usually promptly drop me back off the next morning. I hadn't been sickly, I'd just needed an entire boxful of different medications to keep myself in check, which I eventually managed to get under control as I got older. I hadn't ever expected to get out of that place before I turned eighteen, but one of those days turned out to be different.

The sky was gray that day, too. The guy who came in that day was big and intimidating, and I remember looking up from my book to see the other kids scrambling out of his way. He didn't look happy. But he walked right past the other children and came to me—he started off in a crouch next to me, looking at the book in my lap.

"_Are you reading medical textbooks?"_

I had nodded. I'd already read through the plethora of picture books in the orphanage, so I'd turned my sights to bigger things. He seemed impressed, going so far as to sit crosslegged next to me. After he introduced himself as Crocodile, he explained that he was a businessman who was looking for a child to take into his home.

"_What's your name?"_

"_Trafalgar Law."_

That first conversation hadn't been much, but it had been enough. After a short time, I remember he got up and patted my head before walking off. He was gone for a good hour before he came back to me, explaining that he'd chosen to take me. I remember sighing. I had expected the same from him as I had gotten from everyone else, I wasn't expecting this temporary home to be any different from the others.

Surprisingly enough, he had been different. He had not only kept me for more than a week, he had been patient. If he ever yelled, it wasn't because of my personality or my behavior or because of something that my medicine couldn't fix, it was because I had disobeyed him somehow, and I always learned my lesson. He demanded respect, and so long as I gave it to him he gave the same to me. He had treated me like a human, instead of some kind of uncontrollable animal. He had treated me like I was his family.

Sir Crocodile was not my father by blood, but he was the closest I had ever gotten, and the best I could have asked for.

He had been stern, but still patient, still gentle, still careful. He was precise when it came to staying on top of my dosages and was prompt in getting them refilled. The directors of the orphanage had whispered that he was doing this as some kind of publicity stunt; it was soon clear that this wasn't the case.

After he took me, I had a happy childhood. The first thing he promised me was to take me to see the polar bears at the zoo, and that promise was fulfilled. In fact, he did one better and bought one of them in my name that I was allowed to visit whenever I wanted to. He turned out to be a better father than people would have thought, raising me to be a respectable part of his life, one that he wasn't ashamed to be seen with in the morning paper's front page article, covering the charity auction from the night before.

As I grew, he taught me everything I needed to know. He was steadfast in helping me through my schooling and eventually pushed me to make the jump to get into med school, which I've since graduated from and started down the path as a surgeon. He coached me through every problem I encountered, from troublesome classmates to working up the nerve to ask a girl to prom.

He pushed me to make a move on the cute hostess that worked at the pizzeria we ordered from, which has since started to blossom into a comfortable relationship. I'm still working on it. It'll be hard without him around, but I can do it. I like her.

He left everything to me. His mansion, his casino, his money. It's all mine, and I don't know what to do with it. I don't want to sell it. I've been thinking of trying my hand at running the casino myself. I don't like the idea of living in that big house by myself. Hopefully I'll have someone to share it with someday soon.

I skipped the luncheon that day. I wasn't interested in listening to everyone's condolences or sitting through a bland meal and pretending to be interested in the smalltalk. I went right home, hung up my coat, and stepped into the foyer. His—my—mansion was quiet and empty. I heard the clicking of claws on the tile and saw Midas, a doberman whose personality contradicted his appearance, running to greet who he thought was his master. He'd be disappointed until he realized that his master wasn't coming back, if he ever realized at all. Maybe he'd continue to be blissfully unaware. I almost wished I could have that for myself.

I walked through the kitchen, out to the back deck. I hadn't cried, I didn't expect to. There had been whispers about me being unappreciative, or uncaring, or something. But I just wasn't one to cry. I think he'd have laughed at me for crying over him, anyway. I took solace in the idea that he'd still be around me in the form of his belongings and his house, so in a way, I knew he wouldn't be gone. I didn't really believe in spirits, but he seemed like the type who would manage to show himself in little ways. So this wouldn't be the end, of that I was certain.

As I stepped out onto the deck, I was once again greeted by the cold air. But, in the time that I'd been inside, the sky had turned from gray to blue, and on the day I needed it most, I could finally see the sun.


End file.
